


after, care

by leesamess



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aftercare, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Mentions of Facefucking, With post-sex themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-14 03:55:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29661372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leesamess/pseuds/leesamess
Summary: Iwaizumi Hajime loves you hard like he’s just expecting you to break. But after- he mends you carefully with care.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 41





	after, care

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of my oldest works. They were on my tumblr and I'm bringing them to AO3 too.

Iwaizumi Hajime loves you hard like he’s _just_ expecting you to break.

His arms hold you when you’re past the ability to sustain your weight and he worries about your surroundings when your field-view is narrowly reduced to only him. Your body feels overwhelmed with what Iwa gives you sometimes; the words you’d never hear outside intimacy, the praises for things you have no control over and the overbearing force that grounds you - fixate you in a specific point in time where only _Hajime_ seems to make himself noticed in the span of your whole day.

You find yourself losing bits of memory of the two of you together just to make room for _more_ since your brain seems lost in this vicious circle of fixating on pieces of your life with Iwaizumi.

You have no worries, though. Being lost in thoughts of Hajime is probably the thing you know best, maybe losing to being lost in him - the feeling of him and nothing more.

When your high passes, from yet another climax he brings to your body, you’re too spent to actually hold yourself upright. Hajime is absorbed in his own high, his length still pulsating despite the fact there’s nothing left for his body to pump out and for a moment his own legs tremble over the effort and fatigue. You feel the change in your line of sight more than actually notices it happens and you’re slowly sliding down from the headboard to the bed, Hajime apparently being too far gone to notice how your sweaty body can’t hold itself as you plop down ungraciously after he moves to the side.

Parts of you still burn for the exhaustion; the palms of your hands are hurting from the grip you held on the iron headboard like he told you to and your mouth and throat still feel hoarse from the long-forgotten facefucking when this all was still located in the living-room. His release is leaking down your trembling legs, staining the bed and Iwaizumi is turning and sitting against the headboard now, his eyes still closed, face still flushed, and lips amazingly swollen. You do try to speak but your throat feels useless, as words can’t pass through the sting even after you swallow. You’re almost drifting off when warm, calloused hands find their way across your back to pull you closer.

Hajime has laid down on your side and is softly kissing every single inch of skin he can find - from your shoulder to collarbone to neck and face and lips and forehead.

He never speaks much after sex. You wonder if he’s embarrassed about what he actually _did_ speak; the unblemished truths that slip past his lips in the heat of the moment, the unforgiving tone he adopts when dominating you, marking your body his, like your soul isn’t already.

Sometimes he seems disappointed in marks he finds, like those weren’t his doing, like they weren’t allowed to exist on your skin like the others he freely put there. Most of the time, though, Hajime looks at you like he’s completely freaked out and utterly dumbfounded by your mere existence in his bed _and_ his life. Then he catches himself, because the one moment where his insecurities truly don’t find a voice is when you’re happily spent in his arms, and so he hides it all in a soft smile.

When some time passes, you’re being lifted in those same strong arms that sustained you open, moved around just like you know he can - with ease. He deposits you in the warm water of a bath like you’re precious and if he doesn’t enter with you, Hajime makes sure to fulfill everything from the outside, knelled besides the tub like his body wasn’t trembling just minutes before. Tonight, however, Hajime is sliding behind you, hands snaking around your frame to bring you back against his front like he can’t be distant from you just yet.

Like he’s considering never let you go.

His long, strong fingers tread through your wet hair, massaging your scalp, finding in himself more and more ways to bring you pleasure even when you’re unresponsive, no energy left even to tell him how good it feels.

His hands threaded around everywhere they could go with softness brought by the soap and after long minutes of basking in each other, Hajime himself seemed to be drifting off, his head bobbing from time to time. His sigh made your skin prickle and you smiled against his shoulder.

“What’s that smile for?” Haji asks, tone hoarser than gravel. Your lips turn wider.

“Nothing,” you say.

If you tell him it’s because he makes your heart leap with a simple sigh, Hajime will blush and pout while offhandedly dismissing you. You’ll tell him when he can’t look away.

“Ready for bed?” His lips are on your hair and now when you tremble, he knows why. It’s his lips that are wider when he’s getting up with you, your agreement lost in his skin.

Hajime dries you both and you first - thoroughly from your hair to your calves; and after many reminders from you, when his towel is firmly wrapped around his waist, he also spreads your night-time face cream looking completely focused and also unconvinced on the wonders of it.

“You want the lotion?” He murmurs close to your face, almost finishing. You gesture no with closed eyes and Hajime plants the softest of kisses on your lips, seeming completely satisfied with the smile that dawns on them after.

He lifts you from your place on the toilet and moves your body to the bedroom. You’re always surprised to find the bed somewhat made when you move back into the room and Iwaizumi always find the time to do so - stretched sheets, soft pillows in place and covers just waiting by the foot of the bed.

The curtains are closed and the fan is already on and you fall a bit more in love with this man that can’t hear you say so without turning red. There’s a routine underlying Hajime’s actions when he lowers you in the bed. He’ll put you on the middle of your side, with a pillow under your head. Offer you water. And when he lays down he proceeds to completely undo what he has so carefully done by pulling you into his arms, embracing you from the back and holding you there, tight and pillow-less.

It always passes a moment before Iwa lets you pull your pillow under your head and atop his arm, the weird comfort on the cuddling position where your ass is against his crotch and his leg may thread between yours, his nose in your hair and a big arm around you like a shield.

It’s always here and against the strong skin of his arm, that you murmur “Love you, Hajime” with a kiss.

And he answers you right back, warm lips on your skin, with a kiss lost in your hair, “Love you too, y/n.”

Hajime loves you hard like he’s expecting to break and he loves you _more_ every time you don’t, rewarding caresses and loving embraces like that are meant to piece you together and mend the unexisting cracks that he always expects to surface from the force of his clasp. So you love him back steady - yielding in his force and sticking when he’s slipping.


End file.
